Water Under the Bridge
by mkaz
Summary: When Steven returns after being captured by Homeworld, Connie feels hurt and betrayed. She's given everything she has...but will it ever be enough? Or is everything she had with Steven just water under the bridge? Takes place from Connie's POV during "Dewey Wins" through "Gemcation." Inspired by Adele's song.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: _Steven Universe_ is the creation of Rebecca Sugar. I own nothing.

* * *

She's home before she even realizes it.

Connie hadn't really been paying attention, anyway. So when she hears the snuffling noises Lion makes, and the restless way he shakes his head around, it finally occurs to her to look up and see that she's arrived at her house.

She slips off the large cat's back, and as her feet touch the pavement, she understands just how tired she is. It had been an exhausting couple of days, both mentally and physically. She'd basically been running on adrenaline for over 50 hours straight, barely eating or sleeping. Just trying desperately to keep it together, to be useful, to be comforting to not only the gems, but to Mr. Universe as well. Now that Steven was home at last, the adrenaline that had powered her was gone and she was left feeling wrung out like a dish rag.

Lion pushes his face against her open palm and she smiles gently at him, petting his soft fur. "Everything's fine now, huh Lion?" She presses a kiss to his cheek and sighs. "Then why doesn't it feel that way?"

She turns her key in the lock as gently and quietly as she can, but of course the living room is lit up bright as day and her parents can be heard talking in the kitchen. They're talking about her, Connie knows, but she's too tired to try to discern the actual words being spoken. When they hear her open the door, they both rush out, ready to greet her, but when they see the pink beast by her side, they naturally cringe away.

"Connie!" Priyanka cries. "Honey, we were so worried!"

Connie considers this, then walks over and hugs her mother. Priyanka is tough, demanding, and domineering, and Connie has spent much of her life walking the line between fear and love when it comes to her. But Priyanka is also stable, reliable, and competent. Connie has never had to worry that one day she'd wake up and her mother would do something to hurt her. "Mom," she murmurs simply.

Before Priyanka can react, Connie slips out of her arms to hug Doug as well. "Dad," she whispers in his ear.

Priyanka and Doug look at their daughter, their little girl, who looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. They wish they could protect her from the burden she's taken on herself, and they both find themselves secretly cursing that boy, Steven Universe, for pulling her into the mess of his life. But this is not the time to say anything. They know their child is hurting, and it's more important to be supportive than critical.

"He's home," Connie tells them.

"He's…Steven? Is home?" Doug begins, flabbergasted. Priyanka just puts her hand to her mouth.

"Yes, he found a way. It's complicated. I'll tell you tomorrow. I just—I need to rest." Connie looks down at the floor, defeat having practically seeped into her bones.

"Oh! Yes, of course, dear. We'll talk in the morning," Priyanka answers. As Connie turns to go and Lion follows her, Priyanka calls out, "Wait! That animal's not going to your room, is it?"

Connie just turns and looks at her mother, holding her gaze with the kind of determination Priyanka has never seen from her daughter before. And she knows that she won't win this fight. Connie just turns and continues to her room, the pink feline following faithfully behind.

Once Connie gets to her room, she sloughs off her sword and her bag and collapses onto her bed, covering her face with her hands. Her head feels heavy and aching, and she knows sleep is what she needs most. But she should shower. She hasn't bathed in well over a day—not since she and the gems came back from the harbor after losing Steven. When they got back to the beach house, Pearl invited Connie to shower there while she cleaned Connie's clothes. Since none of the gems had to wear actual clothes, the only garments Pearl could offer Connie once she was done were Steven's. Connie put on one of his red shirts with the star in the center and a pair of jeans that had to be tied snugly to her waist with a piece of rope.

Amethyst had guffawed and said, "That's a good look for ya, C!" The purple gem was trying to lighten the dark mood they were all in, obviously, and Connie could appreciate that. But she could also smell Steven on the clothes she wore, and it took every bit of willpower she had not to bawl like a baby right then and there.

"Arrgh!" Connie growls as she thinks of this. Did he really not understand? Steven was so lighthearted, so nonchalant about the whole thing. Did he even stop to think what it had been like for all of them? The panic, the fear, the worrying, the feelings of helplessness? "Oh it was just so crazy, Connie! I'll have to tell you all about it!" he'd said, laughing.

 _Oh yeah, Steven?_ Connie should have fired back. _You want to know how crazy it was here? Do you want to hear about the look on your father's face when we told him that you'd been taken by Homeworld and we couldn't find a way to get you back? Do you want to hear about how Garnet fell apart from the shock, and how Sapphire was so terrified that she froze to one spot and we couldn't get her unstuck for hours? Would you like to hear about Pearl's theories on what they were going to do to you once you got to Homeworld—how they'd think that your body was just being used by Rose Quartz as some sort of organic shield, and they'd probably try to rip your gem out of you? She went on for nearly a half an hour like this, until Amethyst got so frustrated she threatened to shatter her! Would you like to hear about all that, Steven? Oh, it was a real PEACH of a time over here, believe me!_

Connie sighed. "I should just shower," she said out loud—not necessarily to Lion, who'd made himself comfortable in a corner.

She made the water as hot as she could tolerate, allowing the torrents to beat down on her hair, her back. As she washed her hair, she could hear music. It was coming from the vent right outside of the tub; the bathroom was just above the den in the basement. Connie recognized the deep, rhythmic beat, the distorted, soprano wail that sounded like a cry from a distance, and then Adele's distinct, assured voice.

 _If you're not the one for me,_

 _Then how come I can bring you to your knees?_

 _If you're not the one for me,_

 _Why do I hate the idea of being free?_

Her dad must have been playing it. He was a not-so-secret fan of Adele. Connie sighs as she soaps up her body. "If you're not the one for me, why do I hate the idea of being free," she sings absently.

The words she'd just sung make her pause for a moment. Was Steven "the one" for her?

 _Yes. Of course he was._

How could he not be? Connie was never going to find anyone else—boy, man, woman—who could compare to him. Who else could be so wonderful and magical, bringing so much joy and excitement into her life? She knows she's still a kid, and she has a lot of years ahead of her, but she just couldn't imagine ever finding anyone who could make her feel the way he did.

Connie then thinks of her grandmother, Lilia, for a moment. When she'd say her prayers at night, she always began with, "How blessed am I." None of the things Lilia was grateful for were particularly special or extraordinary, but that was the point. Connie's grandmother tried to impart that it was important to find gratitude in all things in life, not just the big things.

"How blessed am I that the sun shone all day!" Lilia would cry out, rocking very gently as she knelt on the floor in prayer. "How blessed am I that the market had perfectly ripe plantains! How blessed am I that my arthritis didn't act up today!"

"How blessed am I, to have found the one I'll love all my life so early on," Connie told herself once. "I won't have to kiss any frogs, I won't have to put up with some insecure guy's mistreatment, won't have to struggle with loneliness and the fear of ending up alone. I don't have to look at all—he's right here with me."

But then, here came Adele's admission through the bathroom vent:

 _And if I'm not the one for you,_

 _You gotta stop holding me like you do._

 _And if I'm not the one for you,_

 _Why have we been through what we have been through?_

Connie is pretty sure that Steven is the one for her…but what if she's not the one for him?

She finishes her shower and turns off the water, climbing out of the tub to dry off. The song is almost over in real time, but in Connie's analytical mind, the lyrics are still being circulated, considered. As she dries off, she observes herself in the mirror. She's noticed her body changing over the last few months, and for a moment she chuckles when she remembers those videos they had to watch in Health class and the flat, cerebral voice of the female narrator, "During puberty, a human female can expect to see several subtle, yet noticeable changes that signal the beginning of adulthood." Her chest, once as flat as a boy's, now had gentle peaks that had recently required a trip to the department store for her first bra. Her hips jutted out in a way they hadn't before, making her jeans feel slightly more snug. Connie runs her hand over her face for a moment, and notices that much of its childish roundness is gone, replaced with defined cheekbones and a jawline. Give it just a few more years, and she'd probably look much like her mother did when she first started college as a young woman.

Connie was growing, maturing…but Steven wasn't. She recalls Steven's birthday not so long ago, when he tried to stretch himself to be more grown up for her…and turned himself into a baby. True, he started growing facial hair—a single facial hair—but otherwise he hadn't changed at all since he was 10. What if this was just how he was; what if he'd have to stretch and tear and torture his body in order to make it more mature? Connie couldn't ask that of him, but at the same time, how could they possibly be together if she was a grown woman and he looked like a child? What kind of future could they have?

Steven might not age physically, and that evening, he'd shown Connie that he might not be able to age mentally as well. He was so light-hearted about everything that had happened, not giving a single thought to what he'd put them through—and how he'd broken his promise to her. He'd interrupted Connie's training with Pearl that day and fought with her, insisting that he and Connie would face everything together.

But he'd broken that promise so easily. He wanted to play the martyr, take everything onto himself, and when he came back, he just expected that everyone would be thrilled and forget about how he'd made them feel when he left them behind. It was so thoughtless, and so…childish.

 _It's so cold out here, in your wilderness,_

 _I want you to be my keeper—but not if you're so reckless._

Connie finishes dressing in the bathroom and walks back to her room. She turns out the light, gets into bed, and it feels like she's being pulled down by gravity—she couldn't be vertical right now, even if she wanted to be. The sheets feel wonderful: cool and soothing, like arms embracing her. Her eyelids close completely of their own accord, and it's as though her mind shuts off completely.

There are no dreams, no thoughts. Just limitless, merciful blackness. Connie is floating through the true emptiness of space, and it's wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold, white, raw light of day is what wakes Connie up. She struggles to remember if there's something she needs to do, somewhere she needs to be. The last few days were a blur of activity, of planning, and striving, and keeping cool and being smart and helpful. But all that was over. There was nowhere to be, nothing to do.

Something soft brushes against Connie's outstretched hand. She looks over to see Lion sitting by her side, dark eyes stoic and yet sympathetic at the same time. "You should go home, Lion," she tells him. "Steven's going to be wondering where you are."

Lion's response is to push his furry head harder against her hand. The message is clear: _no_. Connie is his friend, and he's not going to leave her when she needs him the most. Steven may be his caregiver, but Lion's concern is not for him. It's for her.

For a brief, shameful moment, Connie wishes Steven could be devoted to her like this large cat is. Shaking her head, she strokes Lion's mane and gets out of bed and opens the door. That's when the smells of food being prepared hits her. Berries, and pancakes, and chicken sausage. Her father is an excellent kitchen helper, but he could never manage a meal like that on his own. Her mother must have taken off of work just for this.

She sighs. Her parents made a big, lovely breakfast—the perfect gateway to a long-overdue conversation about what Connie's been doing for the last several days.

Connie takes a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen. She peers around the corner, and yes, there they both are, clad in aprons, bustling around. Doug is the one who notices her first. "Hi honey! Breakfast is almost done. Go sit down!"

Connie obeys, and before long, a plate of golden cakes topped with a deep crimson sauce is placed in front of her. The dish is lovely, and given how little she's eaten in the last few days, she should be enthusiastic to devour all of this. But she's not. Dread is a hot ball in her stomach, leaving little room for an appetite.

A few minutes later, her parents join her, trying to look excited about having a meal together. "Take a bite, honey," Doug encourages. "You'll love it."

Priyanka takes a bite of her food, looks over to where Lion is stretched out in the living room, and frowns. "Do we need to feed that animal too?"

"No," Connie says. "He catches his own food."

Her mother just grunts in approval, but then says, "So. Steven is home now."

Connie swallows her mouthful, perhaps a little too hard. "Yes," she utters.

"How did he do it? We, uh, thought he was taken away to space."

Connie then provides her parents with a very basic explanation of how Lars' hair and Lion's mane are now inter-dimensionally connected. She can tell they're not quite grasping what she's telling them, but they are trying to—and she appreciates that.

Doug suddenly looks at Lion fearfully. "We-we don't have to worry about things…coming through its mane, do we?"

Connie shakes her head. "No, we don't. Only Steven can get in and out." In reality, she doesn't know if this is true; she's never been inside of Lion's dimension and she doesn't know its limits, especially now that Lars is connected to it. But she assures them because she knows her parents need to be reassured. So does she.

"That's good to know. I'm glad that Steven found a way back and things can go back to normal," Priyanka remarks. And with that, any bit of appetite Connie might have had is quashed. She gently pushes her plate away from her.

"Connie! You barely touched your breakfast!" her mother scolds her.

"I know. You and Dad made a really nice breakfast, and I'm sorry. But I can't." Connie crosses her arms and looks away.

"You've barely eaten or slept or been home for days! Connie, honey, please. We're worried about you," Doug argues. "What's bothering you? Did you and Steven fight or something?"

"Well…kinda. Actually, no. Not really. I guess," Connie sighs and runs her fingers in her hair. "I guess I'm just upset that he gave himself up like he did."

"To those aliens?" Doug asks. Priyanka makes a face tinged with distress and disgust.

Connie nods. There is silence for a few moments, and she then adds, "He promised me we would face everything together, and then he just abandoned us! I believed in us—I believed in what we could do together! And then he just left us like it was nothing!" She's surprised that she's let her feelings tumble out of her like that, but what's done is done.

Doug and Priyanka look at each other. Priyanka says, "Well, honey, I'm sure that it was distressing for you to go through that, but I, for one, am glad that Steven was considerate of you and everyone else and turned himself in."

Connie gapes at her. "What?"

"Well…whatever this thing is that Steven's involved in, it's not really any of our concern. He and the, uh, ladies he lives with, this is for them to take care of. And you see? He found a way back. He kept you and everyone else safe. It's for the best." Priyanka sits back and smiles. Doug nods in approval.

Connie shakes her head in disbelief. Is this really what her parents believe—is that what everyone on earth believes? Is this what _she_ believed, at one time? Had they all really been so blind?

"We're not safe," she mutters under her breath.

"What?" Priyanka asks sharply. "Speak up! You know I can't stand mumbling."

"I said, we're not safe. We never have been! Don't you realize that earth has been part of a battle that's been raging for thousands of years?" Connie gets up suddenly from the table, startling her parents. "There are people out there, incredibly powerful people, who would wipe us out if they could! The Gem Homeworld wants earth to die—this planet is a black mark on their perfect history. Humans want to believe that we have everything figured out, that we're the masters of everything, but we're not! Do you realize that while humans were painting pictures on caves and gathering berries, there was an intergalactic empire that decided the life on this planet was worthless? Someday, Homeworld is going to come here to destroy everything, and we'll be sitting ducks! And that's why I started training with Steven. That's why I carry a sword, that's why I learned to fight! Because someday, the world's gonna burn—and I'd rather be one of the people trying to put out the fire than standing there watching it all go down in flames!"

The words fall out of Connie's mouth so easily she barely has time to register what she'd said. Her hand flies to her mouth, and she bows her head. Instantly she is the good daughter again, remorseful for her willful actions. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, and sits back down. Without her mother prompting her, Connie reaches for her plate and begins to dutifully, mechanically eat her breakfast, which has now grown cold.

Priyanka and Doug, shocked more at the weight of their daughter's words than her defiant nature, join her in methodically consuming breakfast. No more words are spoken. When everyone is finished eating, Connie clears the table and helps her father clean the kitchen. Her mother prepares for the later shift at the hospital, and leaves without saying a word.

Connie places the last dish in the cupboard when she hears her father clear his throat. She turns to him and sees that he's got his jacket on. "I'll be out running errands for a while. Just…um…call me if something comes up." And with that, he's gone.

She sighs, then calls for Lion. Less than two seconds later, the big cat is by her side. She kneels and wraps her arms around him, taking comfort in the deep, basso purrs that emanate from him. "I had to tell them, didn't I?" she asks him. "They have the right to know what's coming, don't they?"

Naturally Lion can't answer her, even if he wanted to. She wishes she could ask Steven, and at one time, she'd probably call and get his opinion. But for right now—unfortunately-she can't bring herself to trust his judgement. However, thinking of calling Steven does make her realize that she hasn't checked her phone in a while. Getting her phone from the wall where it was charging, she realizes that Steven has texted her. She swipes the screen quickly, heart racing, hoping that maybe he's realized that he's done and is apologizing. Her heart sinks when she reads: _Can't hang today. Mayor D's getting blamed for Gem stuff, and it's totally my fault._

Connie closes her eyes and exhales sharply. "Steven. When are you going to stop trying to fix everything all the time?" She opens her eyes and looks at her phone. She doesn't think she's ever hated an inanimate object so much in all of her life. She gets the mad urge to throw it across the room, to let it shatter to pieces against the drywall. She wishes for the strength of the Crystal Gems, so that she could crush it with her bare hands, or perhaps break it in two.

She does the next best thing. She marches to her room, grabs her hamper, and throws her dirty clothes onto the floor. Glaring at the metal and plastic device, she throws it into the hamper and piles all of her clothes on top of it. _There._ Laundry day isn't until Tuesday, so those clothes won't be going anywhere for a while. And she's not going anywhere either, she decides, so if someone truly needs to reach her, they can come to her house or call the landline.

She sits on the floor for a while, just staring at the hamper, or perhaps at nothing. She'd spent a great deal of her time when she was younger this way, sitting alone, clearing her mind. As an only child with no real friends and busy parents, she'd had to find various ways to pass the time that hadn't been strictly regimented by her mother. Sometimes, just sitting alone with nothing but her thoughts was all she had. Her father had called it "meditation" when she tried to explain it to him. Maybe it made him feel better to label it that way so that it would appear that it had some higher purpose for Connie. It didn't. It was just because nothing better had come along.

She thinks of the gems and what time must be like for them. To have lived for thousands of years seems impossible to imagine. Perhaps time just moved in a different way. Hours were more like seconds. Years were like days. At that rate, living for centuries or even millennia was like experiencing a few decades roll by. There was no sense of urgency, no need to conserve time or take it sparingly. It simply was.

Eventually Connie snaps out of it when she hears her father call for her downstairs. He'd brought a bucket of chicken for dinner, and mumbles that her mother would be working until late that evening and they should eat without her. Connie is shocked for a moment; had she really spent hours sitting like that, on the floor? But a glance at the clock showed that yes, the day was nearly over.

It's another meal eaten in silence. Connie spares a few glances at her father, who's looking at a newspaper and absently gnawing at a drumstick. Doug doesn't seem unhappy, per se, just…disappointed. He has the look of someone who'd had exciting plans, and then they were cancelled with no hope of rescheduling. She wants to apologize to him, to try to make amends for her blunt words earlier. But how can you apologize to someone for telling them the truth—especially when it's your parent and they constantly stress how vital it is to be honest with them, all the time? She can't, and at the same time, she knows she can't pretend like everything is wonderful. So she finishes fairly quickly (she wasn't very hungry anyway), tosses a thigh to Lion, who's sitting at her feet, and gets up to leave the room.

"Connie?" her father calls to her.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Are you—that is, do you have plans tomorrow? Or for the next few days?" Doug doesn't look back at her while he speaks.

"No, Dad. I don't plan to go anywhere." Connie hopes that she sounds resolved in her tone, so that he believes her.

"Good," is all Doug says, and when he doesn't say anything else, she leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Connie dreams. She hadn't really had dreams of substance since before Steven was taken—either because she couldn't remember them, or out of sheer exhaustion her mind simply couldn't take on the work of forming images and sounds. But tonight is different.

 _She's standing on some stairs, at night, looking out at a sports field flanked by a forest. It's the field at one of the schools she'd gone to when she was younger—a private school, which ranged from pre-k to 12_ _th_ _grade. There were two girls there that Connie recognized. Identical twins, Kristen and Kaitlin, 10_ _th_ _graders who guarded the steps that led to the field. It was a tradition among the older kids: they'd gather on the field on nights when there were no games planned, usually to smoke weed or listen to music or make out under the bleachers. The twins guarded the steps, and in order to get past them, you either had to either know the password (which changed daily) or just be popular enough that your cred would get you in. Kids younger than sixth grade automatically couldn't get in. If you didn't know the password or you weren't cool, sometimes you could get in if you bribed the twins with something. Connie would ride the bus to school and sometimes overhear older girls giggling about the stuff they'd done in the field the night before. She'd never get to go; she was too young, and even if she wasn't, her mother had such a tight rein on her, there's no way she'd be able to sneak out of the house to get there. Still, it was a fun to imagine what it would be like to go—and what she could bring with her to bribe the twins._

 _In her dream, she's standing where she'd never stood before: in the line, waiting to go out to the field. Interestingly enough, it's not just school kids standing there. The Crystal Gems are standing there too, waiting to have their chance to go to the field. Connie greets Amethyst, who's standing closest to her. "Hey C! We didn't know you were gonna be here!" the purple gem greets her._

" _I guess it's my time," Connie hears herself say._

" _It's all of our times," Garnet turns around and says in her usual, enigmatic way._

" _Oh, isn't this exciting! And I just love how organized everything is. It's the mark of good management," Pearl remarks, clasping her hands together._

 _As she waits, Connie feels like something—or maybe someone—is missing. But she's not sure if it would be polite to ask. She looks behind her to see that Queen Elizabeth is standing there. The old lady waves elegantly and Connie waves back._

 _At last, it's their turn. Garnet is standing in the front, so naturally she goes first. "Password?" one of the twins, Kaitlin probably, asks the Crystal Gems leader, sounding utterly bored._

" _Don't know it," Garnet tells her bluntly._

" _Then you can't get in," Kristen tells her._

" _We heard you take…gifts," Garnet replies. The twins affirm this._

 _Connie watches as Garnet removes her shades, and with her back turned, reaches up to her forehead. There's a wet, tearing sort of sound, and the fusion grunts slightly. She's holding something in her hand that she gives to one of the twins. The girl inspects it closely, then nods. "Go in," she tells Garnet._

" _What did Garnet give them?" Connie asks Amethyst._

 _Before Amethyst can answer, Garnet turns back to them. "I'll see you in there," she tells the others, then heads down the stairs._

 _Connie feels her heart stop. Garnet's third eye is missing, with only an empty socket left. She'd gouged out her own eye and gave it to Kristen and Kaitlin. Connie tries to scream, but it comes out as only a tiny, squeaking noise._

" _Oh! My turn next," Pearl announces. "I'm afraid I don't know the password, but I believe I have something that may interest you."_

 _Pearl summons her weapon, and aims it at her head. The next thing Connie knows, Pearl is holding her gem in her hand. "Pearl!" Connie cries out._

" _It's fine, Connie. Really," Pearls smiles, and her once gleaming white teeth are now a dull brownish-red. "It doesn't hurt! See?" The skinny gem runs her hands over the gaping hole where her pearl had once been. With a hoot, Pearl zooms down the stairs to the field._

 _With a whimper, Connie looks behind her. The line has grown massive. Some of the people in line she recognizes; there's Allie and Jane, the two older girls who sat in front of her on the bus. There's Principal McCutcheon, the guidance counselor, and the cafeteria lady. There's Jeff, his arm still in a sling, and Jamie, wearing his work uniform. There's Sadie and Sadie's mother and Mayor Dewey and Onion and Sour Cream and Vidalia. And far, far back, at the end of the line, is Lars, looking annoyed, as usual._

 _Connie feels a tap on her shoulder and turns. It's Amethyst. She points to the stairs and then waves goodbye. "Amethyst? What did you give up?" Connie murmurs._

 _With that, Amethyst opens her mouth, revealing a gaping hole where her tongue should be. Again, Connie can only squeak in horror. The purple gem grins, gives a thumbs up, then makes a beeline for the stairs._

 _Connie is now at the front of the line. "You're next," Kristen states the obvious. "Password?"_

" _I—I—I don't know if I can…"_

" _That's not the password," the girl snaps. "Give something up, or you can't go in."_

 _Connie looks past the twins to the field. It's not deep green grass with white painted lines like she remembers; instead it's a mass of roses in different colors: peach, chocolate brown, red, blue, yellow, and pink. The roses are kissed with dew that sparkles in the moonlight like diamonds. She can see those who have already been granted access to the field: she sees Greg, playing his guitar to serenade Rose Quartz, who gracefully moves her feet in dance. Amethyst bumps and grinds to the music too, seemingly trying to attract Greg's attention—or perhaps Rose's. Garnet and Pearl are wrapped in each other's arms, engaged in a kiss, the ragged holes left from their self-inflicted mutilations seemingly healed as their heads are pressed together._

 _Kristen and Kaitlin are getting impatient. "Come on, you dumb bitch. People are waiting. Give up something or screw off," one of them says._

" _Connie!" a voice calls. She looks over to see Garnet calling to her. "Give them your heart!"_

" _What?"_

" _Oh yes, Connie! That's a great idea. It's the best part of you!" Pearl agrees._

" _But-but my heart? How can I…"_

" _You'll barely miss it," Greg adds, turning to face her. And Connie is horrified to see that half of his body is missing, just bloody threads blowing in the wind._

" _You should be down here! You belong here, with us!" Rose calls. Her gem, like Pearl's, is missing, and most of her back is gone, just an empty space where a spine should be._

" _Ugh…oh God! Just make up your mind, already!" Kaitlin demands._

" _Just use your sword and cut it out, dear," Queen Elizabeth calls to her._

 _Connie looks down and sees a tiny woman with short, puffy, light pink hair and a dark pink outfit looking up at her with large, doe eyes. She is holding Connie's sword up to her. Slowly and carefully, Connie takes it. After she unsheaths the sword, she looks again at the field, where her friends are waiting for her._

" _You can do it, Connie!" Pearl calls. Amethyst gives her a thumbs up._

 _Taking a deep breath, Connie holds the point to her chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she begins to slide the blade into her flesh, inch by inch, feeling her heart thump and jump wildly in response. The pain starts as almost an itch, then a deep, tearing feeling, and then a hot, searing pain as she reaches her heart and starts to pull it out. She screams, and finally, it comes out as a true scream._

"Connie!" she hears her mother's voice. Her eyes fly open, and her mother is there, in her face. Priyanka's hands grasp her arms and gently shake her. "Wake up! You were screaming!"

Connie gasps and gags, struggling to take in breath. "I was—I was just…dreaming?" Frantically, she touches her chest, feels around near her heart.

"Yes, honey. It was just a nightmare."

Connie feels relief, but that relief quickly dissipates when she feels her stomach lurch, and all the saliva glands in her mouth simultaneously release. Pressing a hand to her lips, she jumps out of bed and pushes past her mother, running to the bathroom. She deposits her dinner into the toilet, and her tastebuds and throat revisit her meal in nauseating detail: peppers and spices, the juices of the chicken meat, the peanut oil it was fried in—all mixed with stomach acid.

Priyanka holds her daughter's hair and rubs her back soothingly while she retches. When Connie is finished, Priyanka helps her to the sink so she can wash out her mouth and drink some water. Connie dries her mouth and eyes and smiles sadly at her mom. "Thanks," she says.

Priyanka smiles back. "Oh honey." She cups her daughter's face, then starts. "Connie! You're burning up!"

Connie then notices how cold the room seems to be—she's trembling—but her arms, chest and stomach feel like she's been lying naked in the desert sun. She lets her mother tuck her back into bed. Priyanka gets her medical bag and takes Connie's temperature; sure enough, she's running a fever. Fortunately, it's not high enough to warrant a trip to the hospital.

Priyanka brings her a glass of water and a lined trashcan in case she has to throw up again. "Get some rest, now. I'll check on you later, okay?"

"Okay. Mom?"

"Yes?"

Priyanka's been so tender and loving in just the last few minutes, and suddenly Connie feels a rush of affection for her mother. Maybe it's the fever that's making her emotional, but tears spring to her eyes and she grabs Priyanka's arms. "What I said earlier—about the world burning—I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you and Dad! I—"

"Shhh. This isn't the time to talk about it. You're sick. You need your rest."

"But—"

"Your dad and I are adults, Connie. We can handle the truth. Go to sleep." Priyanka kisses Connie's forehead. "I love you."

Connie easily falls asleep again, spurred on by exhaustion caused by the fever. The horror of her nightmare does not remain with her, and she doesn't dream for the rest of the night.

Connie also remains unaware that after she's fallen asleep, Priyanka goes back to her room, climbs into bed, and weeps. Her tears awaken Doug, who holds her until she stops and they both fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Throughout the next day, Connie drifts in and out of consciousness, her body fighting the fever. She's vaguely aware that her parents are there in the house too—that they must have taken off of work to be with her. Someone sits her up and gives her water. Someone presses a cool compress to her head and the back of her neck. Someone gives her a cup of something that tastes like chemicals with a hint of cherry. Every now and then she opens her eyes and sees the outline of someone leaning over her.

She can feel Lion by her side, his presence a constant, comforting one. He's positioned himself on her bed so that she can weakly run her fingers through his fur. At some point, one of her parents put on the TV, but with it being the middle of a weekday, there's not much on. As the day wears on, she finds it a little easier to open her eyes and watch some of it, but mostly she just listens to it with her eyes closed. Eventually, the languor of the fever winds down and she begins to dream again—and the sounds on the TV mix with her dreams. She sees big-haired talk show hosts talking to irate, scantily-dressed women who call each other "skanks" and "hoes." She sees people dressed as plugs and sockets hit buzzers and jump up and down and spin enormous, glittering wheels. She sees a pudgy, good-natured fellow rave about the virtues of using the Insta-pan.

"I MAKE RIBS, I MAKE CHICKEN, I MAKE BURGERS IN THIS THING, CONNIE!" the pudgy man shouts at her from the screen. "I JUST THROW IN MY FAVORITE SAUCE, ONIONS, GARLIC, OIIIIILLLLL, DUMP IN ALLLLLL THE MEAT— _RAW_!—AND THEN—"

Connie wakes with a start, rolls over to the side of the bed, and heaves violently into the garbage bin her mother left for her. "I ain't a ho, bitch! You's a ho! You's a fat-ass ho!" Connie hears a woman scream from the TV.

She's done—she hopes. Groaning, Connie lies back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. She hasn't been sick like this in a long time. Steven could probably heal her, if she asked. She won't, though.

It's not just because she doesn't know what to say to him, or if she actually wants to talk to him yet; it's because it's a point of pride for her. She's not going to go running for a quick fix because she feels bad. Even before, when everything was fine between them, she'd finish training with Pearl and her whole body would be screaming in agony. It was to be expected: in order to gain and tone muscle, your muscles had to tear. She wanted to be strong, and for her, that meant being able to deal with pain. So she wouldn't tell him about it. Connie reasoned that a time would come when she'd be in much more pain, that she'd be injured on the battlefield by an opponent who was far less merciful than Pearl. And perhaps Steven wouldn't be there to heal her. She had to toughen herself against pain and suffering, so that she could be a better warrior.

She remembers now, when she was captured by Aquamarine and the Topazes. The fusion of their bodies had kept her trapped, and it had been painful. Her muscles had cramped from the pressure forced on her body, but she refused to give in to it. All of her training had led to this. She focused on her breathing, on redirecting her thoughts from the pain and to harnessing her energy. Connie couldn't move, but she knew Steven and the gems would find them soon, and she had to be ready to fight.

She _was_ ready to fight.

A sob catches in her throat. She feels Lion rub his head against her shoulder, and she allows her tears to fall onto his fur. She appreciates his presence, but it doesn't stop it from hurting. Once again, she feels her disappointment and hurt turn to anger again. How could Steven not understand what he'd taken from her? Didn't he realize what she'd put her body and mind through, just so she could stand by his side? Didn't it mean anything to him?

It had all been in vain, she sees now. The next time a big bad came along, he'd probably just leave her out of it again.

Connie struggles to push herself back under the covers. She should rinse out her mouth and wash her face, but she can't find the motivation to do so. She closes her eyes, sleep taking her over so slowly she doesn't even realize it.

* * *

The first thing she notices is the sound of a bell ringing in the distance. Then she's walking along a tree-lined path in a park; she recognizes this park. It's from a little New England town her parents had moved her to when she was 6. They didn't stay very long, but she remembers that it was on the cusp of fall, and all the leaves on the trees were a brilliant mix of reds, yellows, oranges, and purples. It was very much like now, and Connie felt like she was walking through a painting.

The path winds a bit, and then she's approaching a small pedestrian bridge, built over a babbling brook. There's someone sitting on the bridge, bare legs dangling over the side. Their back is to Connie, so she's not sure who it is, but they have long, thick, dark hair—very much like hers. As she gets close, she hears the person singing. And the voice stops her in her tracks. Connie knows that voice as well as her own. Sweet, sincere, and slightly deeper than hers.

"What are you waiting for? You never seem to make it through the door." The person tosses a stray stone into the water as they sing the next line. "And who are you hiding from? It ain't no life to live like you're on the run."

Connie's now gotten close enough to practically reach out and touch them. So she takes a deep breath, and before they can sing the next line, Connie sings, "Have I ever asked for much? The only thing that I want is your love."

Stevonnie chuckles. "She's found me, at last." They turn around and smile. "Hi there, Connie."

Connie gapes for a moment. She realizes that this is all a dream (she's been so delirious with a fever, all she could do for a while was sleep), but even so, this isn't something she had ever imagined happening. She just assumed that if Stevonnie ever popped up in one of her dreams, it would be her, dreaming herself as Stevonnie. And yet, here they were: two very separate people.

When Connie doesn't answer, Stevonnie says, "What's the matter? Lion got your tongue?"

"I-I-uh…sorry. I just…wasn't expecting to ever see you…like this." Connie hears her stammering answer, and groans inwardly.

They shrug. "I'm sorry. I wish I had all the answers." Stevonnie thinks for a moment. "Here. You wanna sit down?" They pat a space on the wooden planks next to them.

"Sure." Connie carefully squats down and dangles her legs off the bridge and as well. She's reminded of how it felt the first time she fused with Steven. Connie was amazed at how big they'd grown. Now, sitting next to Stevonnie, she's aware of how small she is by comparison. Stevonnie's even bigger than her father.

Once again she hears a bell ringing somewhere far away.

For a while they don't talk. Connie doesn't really know what to say, and Stevonnie seems perfectly content watching the water beneath them: seeing the leaves from the nearby trees discharge their leaves into the rippling brook, watching their reflections from up above. But at last, Stevonnie says, "I know things are rough right now between you and Steven. I'm sorry about that."

Connie shrugs. "Not your fault."

Stevonnie laughs at this. "Uh, yeah, it kinda is. I'm Steven too, remember?"

"But—but—it's not the same thing. You're not totally him, and he's not….totally you. I think." Connie covers her face and groans. "I just wish one thing in my life could make sense!"

"What are you talking about? Lots of things make sense. Your sense of honor and devotion to doing the right thing. Your ambition. Your affection for your family and friends…and Steven. You're a great person, Connie. I'm proud of the person I am because of you."

Connie blushes and smiles. "Thank you. But…I guess you won't be coming around much anymore, will you?"

The fusion tips their head to one side, considering this. "I couldn't say for sure—I don't have Garnet's powers, after all—but it doesn't look too good right now. As long as you and Steven are so far away from each other like this…I can't exist. Not physically, at least."

"That's not my fault, you know!" Connie bursts out. "I wanted to become you to fight the Homeworld gems, but Steven decided to just give up! He never even gave us a try, he just…betrayed us."

With that, Stevonnie takes their sire's hand in theirs. Connie is amazed at the feel of it—of their skin pressed together like this. In some ways, it feels familiar, like the feel of touching her own skin, and in others, it feels like touching a completely different person. "Connie. You know Steven would never deliberately hurt you. But please understand: there's going to come a time when he's going to have to fight battles and face down demons all by himself. And no one—not you, not me, not Dad, not even the gems—will be able to help him. There are places he's going to have to go that no one else can follow."

Connie sniffles, and realizes she'd begun to cry. "How do you know this? You said you couldn't see the future."

Stevonnie looks off into the trees. The sound of the bell rings in the air again. "It's the part of me that's Rose Quartz that senses this," they finally admit. "I don't fully understand it, but there are things that have happened—and _will_ happen—that will change everything. You may have noticed, that one of the disadvantages Steven has is that he doesn't always know what he knows. If you know what I mean."

"But I don't want to just let go. Stevonnie, I don't want this to end! I don't want what we have to end!"

Stevonnie takes Connie's face in her hands. "Garnet told me that I wasn't a person. I was an experience. And thanks to you and Steven, I was a good experience. And if you get to experience something wonderful, does it really matter how long it lasted? What matters is, that it happened."

Before Connie can respond, Stevonnie leans forward and kisses her. And it's wonderful: warm and tender and deep. It's the way she always wanted to be kissed; the way she'd hoped Steven might kiss her someday. When Stevonnie pulls away, Connie notices for just barely a nanosecond, that their pupils appear diamond-shaped. She can hear the ringing of a bell once again.

Stevonnie smiles. "The bell tolls for thee," they say.

* * *

The air is the sort of dark blue-gray color that makes it difficult to make out where you are and what time it is. She's wrapped in sheets that are too heavy and too thick, and she pushes them aside. "Where are you?" she calls out. "Are you still here?"

"I'm here, Connie," a voice replies. A few seconds later, she can hear footsteps and discern the outline of someone approaching. The light by her bedside is turned on, and after blinking a few times to get her eyes to adjust to the light, Connie can see that it's her mother, still dressed in her lab coat from work.

Priyanka's face is grim. She takes Connie's temperature and her pulse, and determines both are normal. "It looks like your fever has finally broken. Good." She sits down on the edge of the bed.

"What time is it?" Connie asks her.

"One-thirty."

"In the afternoon?"

Priyanka blinks. "No. In the morning. You slept the whole day and most of the evening."

Connie groans. "Ugh. Was it the chicken I ate? Did Dad get sick too?"

"I don't think it was anything you ate. Dad didn't get sick. I had some of the chicken earlier, and I feel fine. If I had to guess, I'd say it was from being submerged in water the other night. That water by the harbor is filthy. And with the stress you were under, the lack of sleep and proper nutrition…I think it lowered your immunity and made you vulnerable to infection."

"Oh. Well, it took a while to kick in, didn't it?"

"You were probably incubating the infection for a while. But with Steven being missing and your being occupied with your emotions, your body was coursing with adrenaline. You probably didn't notice you were getting sick until you finally had a chance to come down from it."

"Oh. Makes sense."

"How do you feel, Connie?"

She draws her knees to her chest. "I feel fine, I guess. Kinda sticky and sweaty from the fever. The nausea's gone, but I still don't feel like eating anything."

"Sounds normal. But…um…how do you feel…otherwise?"

Connie shakes her head. "The truth? Confused. Still just…confused. Angry. Hurt. Lonely."

Priyanka pats her daughter's knee. "What Steven did…you know that he didn't do it to hurt you, honey."

Connie nods glumly. "But there had to have been another way. There just had to be!"

Priyanka looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head. "Can I tell you a story? A few years after I earned my medical degree, I was an ER doctor. It can be incredibly rewarding work, but it can burn you out quickly. Sometimes you sit around with nothing to do, no one hardly comes in. And other times you're so overwhelmed you think you're going to break. You have to move fast, think fast— _everything_ fast. There was one night, right after Christmas, where I was the only doctor in the ER. Lots of people had taken off for the holiday; there had been a nasty virus that had swept through the town we were in, and lots of us had called out sick. So it was just me, and the team of nurses and aides and techs. It was quiet for a while that night, and most of us were praying that it would stay that way for the next several hours until our shift was over and we could finally go.

"Then a man came in, mid-forties, complaining of shortness of breath and pain in his chest. No history of smoking, lung cancer, heart disease—either personally or in his family. He gets signed in, I examine him. His wife and son are there, and as I'm taking his information, they're talking about the dinner they'd just had: heavy cream sauces, deep fried meats, rich desserts. The patient is talking about how he'd had a rich meal the week before and had felt like this—much to his wife's dismay, by the way, because she was trying to get him to eat better for quite a while. I ask him if he feels nauseous, and yes, he admits that he does, and that the pain seems to be radiating into his shoulder blades. He tells me that he threw up last week, and he'd felt better afterwards. I'm hearing all this, and I know right away what it is: gall stones! His ducts are clogged and giving him attacks when he eats food that's too rich to digest. I explain what I think it is, and the family is so relieved!

And just then…I get word that a child—no more than six—was struck by a car and is being wheeled in right then and there and is barely clinging to life. I'm the only doctor on-call, I have to do this. The family understands, and I'm off. It's a little girl, her name is Emmie. She's still wearing the blue sparkly dress her mother had dressed her in to go to Midnight Mass…" Priyanka voice is trembling, and Connie takes her mother's hand in hers and presses it to her heart.

Connie's mother clears her throat and continues. "Multiple lacerations, broken ribs, punctured lung, ruptured spleen…and I'm doing everything I can to keep this child alive. Because who wants to go to two terrified people and tell them their baby is gone? While I'm working, fortunately, mercifully, one of the ER doctors who'd called out earlier came in, leapt into action, and helped me on the table. We save the girl, she's going to live. I walked out of that operating room, Emmie's blood on my hands and clothes…but I was able to tell her mother that she lived."

"Oh Mom, that's awesome!" Connie exclaims, but her smile fades when she sees the look on Priyanka's face. "But…"

"But…in all the time it took to save that little girl, my other patient, the older man, died of a heart attack. It wasn't gall stones at all. Three arteries were blocked, and he went into cardiac arrest. So I had to turn right around and tell another scared family that their husband and father wasn't coming back."

"Oh…Mom," Connie cries. "I'm so sorry! That must have been awful, but…there was nothing you could do! You had to save that little girl, and you couldn't be in two places at once! You were just doing what you thought was right. You had to make a choice!"

Priyanka nods. "Yes, I had to make a choice. I didn't have the luxury of time to weigh all my options, I didn't have anyone else to sit down and confer with. I had a few seconds to make up my mind, and I made it. If I had to go back and do it all over again? I'd probably do what I did in the first place. But that night still haunts me. That man never got to see another birthday, never got to celebrate another anniversary with his wife, never got to see his son get married. And I can't help but feel like some of that is my fault. I don't know if I'll ever fully be at peace with the choice I made."

Connie doesn't respond to this. Priyanka sighs and gently releases her hand from her daughter's and stands up. "I would understand if you didn't feel like sleeping anymore, but you should still take it easy for the rest of the night. Would you like the TV on?"

"No thank you," Connie murmurs. "Maybe I'll just shower and read for a bit."

"That's a good idea, honey. I went ahead and did your laundry. You should change the sheets on your bed; there are fresh ones in the closet." Priyanka starts to leave, then stops and turns back. "Oh, by the way, I found your phone at the bottom of your hamper; not sure how it got there. Anyway, the battery was low, so it's charging right now. I'm surprised the ringing didn't wake you up."

"Ringing?" Connie asks.

"Yes, the ringing. It rang several times. I think it was probably Steven. Who else calls you anyway, right?"

Connie smiles mirthlessly. "Right. Good night, Mom."

"Good night, Connie."

After Priyanka leaves, Connie strips her bed and replaces her sheets, and gets ready to shower. As she does these things, she tries to remember the dream she just had. She feels like something very important happened, but she simply can't remember. She thinks she spoke to someone, maybe about Steven…maybe about things he'll have to do soon. She just can't picture exactly what it was. She just remembers how it makes her feel now: sentimental; sad; a little remorseful.

After she's showered and dressed, she finds her phone charging on her dresser where her mother must have left it. Connie checks her call history to see that yes, indeed, Steven called her at least eight times over the course of the evening, but left no voicemails.

Something feels familiar. A bell ringing in the distance…fall leaves…a babbling brook…a bridge…eyes like diamonds…a kiss.

"The bell tolled for me," Connie murmurs, as she shuts her phone off.


	5. Chapter 5

Connie stays up for a few more hours after her fever breaks. Sitting on her bed in fresh sheets with Lion lying next to her, she surfs the internet on her laptop, reading headlines, catching up on current events. She searches for any news about Homeworld's attempted abduction. A few national outlets report strange lights and objects over the Delmarva coast. One local station had interviewed local residents and wove a story of an intricate, technologically-sophisticated human trafficking ring, which had used a little person dressed as a fairy as bait to lure unsuspecting children and young adults to their vehicle. Connie sighs. Humanity truly is unprepared for what's outside of the planet. Her kind will make up any insane story they can—as long as it's not the story of all of mankind losing control over their domain. That is the one outlandish truth that none of them can abide.

Connie skims the headlines from Beach City and learns that Nanefua Pizza is the new mayor— and that Mayor Dewey resigned during their first debate. Most of the photos from the debate were of a triumphant Mayor Pizza, flanked by ecstatic citizens, but there was one that wasn't. It was a shot of William Dewey from behind, shoulders slumped in defeat, as he walked away towards the sunset. And just in the far left corner of this photo, was a young boy with dark curly hair, wearing a red t-shirt, looking wistfully at him.

 _Steven failed._ This seems so unlikely, but yet, it did happen. In all the time that Connie has known Steven, she's seen him prevail in any challenge—even if the outcome wasn't quite what he'd planned. But this was an outright failure: Steven had intended to shift the weight of the blame for Homeworld's attack from Dewey to himself, and in the end, the former mayor just gave up and handed the job to someone else. There's a small, petty part of Connie that delights in this, because now Steven knows what it feels like to believe in someone, to work hard to support them, only to have them give up on everything you'd built together.

She manages a few hours of sleep in the early morning hours, so by the time she wakes up, her parents have already left for work. She finds a note from her mother, letting her know that she's cancelled Connie's activities for the day and alerted her tutors that she won't be meeting with them, citing her recovery from her illness. Priyanka does add, however, that she expects that Connie will attend her violin lesson tomorrow evening. Connie can live with this. Her mother has always been so rigid that Connie imagined that she'd never be able to bend on anything. But Priyanka has shown so much tenderness and vulnerability in the last few days, that Connie can respect that her mother wants to reestablish the routine they'd created.

Truthfully, Connie misses her routines as well. Being sick has made her feel stagnant and lethargic, and she's now craving fresh air and exercise. So after making herself some eggs and dry toast (eggs are nature's sponge, the perfect post-stomach-bug food), Connie decides to walk around her neighborhood. Lion wisely chooses not to accompany her; his presence would probably cause a panic. As she walks, Connie passes a man mowing his lawn; a woman walking her dog; mothers pushing their babies in strollers; children riding their bicycles and laughing. Just a fraction of the people Connie wanted to protect.

She sighs when she thinks of what she'd said to Pearl, not so long ago: _I don't know what'll happen in the future, but if something dangerous comes along, I don't wanna be a burden, I wanna help! I wanna be there for Steven, to fight by his side!_

Well, all of that was for nothing, she supposes.

When she gets home, she still feels full of nervous energy that she desperately wants to expend. She walks to her backyard, gazes up at the deep blue sky blushed with wispy clouds. Walking wasn't enough. She has to do something else.

She wants to dance.

Connie's never felt completely comfortable with dancing, since it's something that is usually meant to be observed by others, and being watched has always made her panic. She thinks of her heritage: her family had once been Shaivites, worshipers of Lord Shiva, the divine creator, preserver, and destroyer. In breathing life into the universe, or in bringing it to an end, as whichever the case may be, He performs the Ananda Tandava, the cosmic dance. Every pose of a limb, every moment of the body—it is graceful, magnificent, consuming. Connie is fascinated by this idea, by this great power to create beauty from nothingness, and to return that beauty to the nothingness from which it came.

She could never reproduce Lord Shiva's magnanimous movements herself, but perhaps her fencing movements could suffice. Pearl had been an excellent teacher, mentoring her in both the science as well as the art of combat. Connie hears a small growl, and at her side is Lion, holding her sheathed sword in his mouth. It's as if he knew she would want it.

"Thanks, Lion," she tells him, taking it from his mouth, and with that, he withdraws. Connie draws her sword from her scabbard, then does a small bow, as though there were an actual opponent in front of her. She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them, she is ready. She hears Pearl's first lessons to her playing in her mind.

 _Keep your stance wide, keep your body lowered. As you're moving forward, balance is the key. Right foot, left foot, now go even faster. And as you're you moving backwards, keep your eyes on me._

Connie moves are swift, yet cagey. Her opponent is powerful, but they underestimate her. Deep down she knows she wasn't built for fighting, but that doesn't mean she's not prepared to try. She strikes a blow, sending her foe staggering backward. She is human, cursed with a short existence. She is also a girl, cursed with preconceived notions of who she is and what she can do. In a way, she's fought all of her life; it's just been a different kind of battle.

They try to strike her down, and to their surprise, she rolls with it, into it. But then she leaps out of the roll and back to her feet, and she's thrown them off balance—and caught them just enough off guard that she lands a deadly blow.

She has made a difference. This battlefield is her universe, and for a moment, she is Shiva the Destroyer, vanquishing her enemy. But she is also Shiva the Preserver, saving the lives of the innocent.

"Incredible."

Connie whips around at the sound, which had caught her off-guard. She points her sword in the direction of the voice. Jamie throws his hands in the air and shouts, "Don't shoot!" He then considers that and adds, "I mean, uh, don't stab! Don't…lance? I'm not really sure what the right verb is."

"Jamie!" Connie exclaims, sheathing her sword. "What are you doing here? I didn't think your mail route went this far."

"Ha! No. I was sick as a dog the last few days. I tried to go to work, but Barb said that no one likes their mail delivered by a queasy mailman. She insisted I get it out of my system. So I'm off today too."

"Ah." So Connie's mother had been right about the filthy water by the harbor. "So what brings you by?"

Jamie wiped his brow. "Could I have a glass of water? It's a hot one today!"

Connie tells Jamie to sit down on the back porch, and she goes in to get him water. She doesn't think her parents would approve of her bringing a man into the house when she's by herself, so she doesn't invite him in. When she comes back and gives him a tall glass, Jamie downs it like he's been wandering through the desert. "Gulp-gulp—oh man, that really hit the spot," he declares, as he drinks happily.

Connie watches him drink like this for several minutes, puzzled. "So you came here…to get some water? Don't they have water in Beach City?"

Jamie leans back, grinning. "They sure do!" He seems to realize what he's saying, then sits up straight. "Oh, uh, I mean, yeah. I didn't come here for water, although I _really_ needed it. All that hitchhiking left me parched! I came to thank you."

Connie frowned. "What?"

"Well, I don't have a car, and Barb wouldn't let me take the truck since it's only for 'official postal business,' so I had to hitchhike! And the guy I got a ride with—wow, he was scary—I didn't feel like I could ask him…"

"No, no. I meant, why did you come here to thank me?"

He blushes for a moment. "You know…when we were abducted? By that—hmm—yellow ruffian who had encompassed us in its prison of stone flesh?"

Connie finds herself balling her hands into fists without even thinking about it. "Yeah," she mutters.

"It was…awful…and terrifying…and…"

"Painful," Connie finishes for him, looking down at her hands.

"Yeah." Jamie takes the last sip of his water. "Anyway, you helped us through that, and I wanted to come out here and thank you."

"I didn't do anything, Jamie. That was Steven. He's the one who got them to stop. He did everything." Connie tries very hard not to let resentment creep into her voice as she says this.

"But you _did_ do something! You tried to keep us all calm, and keep us from giving up! Remember what you said?"

Connie considers this for a moment. "No, I don't."

"You said something like, 'Okay, guys, I know you're scared. I am too. But we're doing exactly what we need to do. We're surviving. That's the most important thing we can do—stay alive.' And then you lowered your voice and you said, 'they're gonna find us. Just stay strong. Be ready to run.'" Jamie smiles at her. "Connie, you don't know how much it helped to hear that. I-I-thought I was gonna die there, and I'd never go home or see my parents again…" Jamie's voice breaks a little, but he stops for a moment, breathes, and continues. "But you wouldn't let us give up. It's what I needed. It's what we _all_ needed. So, uh, you know—thank you."

She's touched by this. "You're welcome, Jamie."

They sit together and stare up at the sky for a while, watching the clouds go by. "It's really something, isn't it? I took it for granted," Jamie tells her.

"My grandma used to tell me life's a gift," Connie replies. She feels that old familiar ache in her heart that's never gone away.

"I should head home. Get some rest. Barb won't let me take another day off." Jamie gets ready to leave.

"Jamie, wait! How are you going to get back?"

"Hitchhike, I suppose. Hopefully it won't be the same guy as before." He shudders.

"I'll get you home." With that, Connie whistles, and seemingly out of nowhere, Lion appears.

"Whoa!" Jamie stumbles back, clearly frightened. "You have a lion? He looks like Steven's lion! Do you both have lions?"

"No…this is Steven's lion." When Lion snorts at this, Connie pets him soothingly and corrects herself. "Lion doesn't belong to anyone, actually. He does his own thing. And he's spending some time with me right now."

"Oh. So…how are you getting me home?"

* * *

The portal glows a bright whitish-blue light, and the sound of Lion's thunderous roar can be heard just at the tail end. Jamie shudders and shakes as Connie casually gets off of Lion's back and announces, "Here you go. The post office is just around the corner. I hope this is okay?"

Jamie, stunned, murmurs, "Y-yes. That was…exhilarating! I can see why Steven keeps a Lion as a pet!" Lion growls at him, and Jamie quickly corrects himself. "Friend! Sorry, I meant 'friend'! That works, right?"

"Sure, that works." Connie holds her arm shyly and looks away. "Jamie…thanks for coming all the way to my house to talk to me. You didn't have to go through all that trouble."

"But I wanted to." Jamie smiles. "Connie…you're okay, right?"

She takes a deep breath and smiles back. "Sure. I'm great."

"O-kay. Well, um, if you see Steven, tell him I said 'hi', okay?"

"I'll do that." Connie feels her jaw clench involuntarily.

She waves goodbye and watches Jamie walk around the corner. _So, I'm back in Beach City_ , Connie thinks to herself. She looks around quickly for a moment, wondering if Steven is around. But then she reasons that it would probably be unlikely. As small as Beach City is, there are lots of other places he could be right now, and this isn't a neighborhood he often frequents. Be that as it may, Connie realizes that were she to ride Lion for just a few minutes due west, she'd arrive at the Temple. And if she rode him a few minutes more due east, she'd arrive at his father's workplace—and those are two places her friend is much more likely to be.

It had been days since they last spoke. Steven had called her several times, so obviously he wanted to talk to her, maybe even see her. Why couldn't she just bring herself to reach out to him?

If she went to his house now, maybe he'd be there, playing video games or watching _Crying Breakfast Friends_ or sparring with Pearl. Maybe he'd stop what he was doing and they'd go for a walk together along the shore, letting the waves nip at their feet. Maybe they'd stop and sit on the sand at some point, watching the sun set. And Steven would tell her all about Homeworld, about how the Diamonds tried him for the shattering of one of their own, and how they were ready to kill him, but he escaped with Lars and were nearly caught, and how Lars died and Steven brought him back to life.

And Steven would tell the story in that light-hearted way of his, making sure to stress that it was a story that ended happily. And Connie would feel just as useless and discarded as she did before, realizing that Steven didn't need her then, and he didn't need her now—and that was the way it would always be.

She didn't want to be a tag-along, a hanger-on. But that's what she was. She could see Steven now, trying to reassure her. _Oh they were jam buds, they were Stevonnie!_ But that was all for Connie's benefit. Steven didn't need any of that to be extraordinary.

She sighed. "Lion?" she called. The great cat walked over to her, waiting for her orders. She ran her hands over his fur. "Take me back home, will you please?" she asked.

A second later Connie was astride his back, and with a mighty bellow, Lion creates a portal—and they're gone.


	6. Chapter 6

The day after Jamie visits, Connie does her best to keep herself busy. She bakes bread. She reads all six books in Hope Hazelnut's _Nightmare Mall_ series. She goes for two separate runs around her neighborhood—unfortunately, she didn't space them far apart enough, and Mr. Moody, her neighbor, is still cutting his bushes when she passes by for the second time and gives her that withering look that always makes her feel bad about herself. She cleans the bathrooms, vacuums the rugs, dusts the shelves, and wipes down the cupboards.

Anything to keep herself busy.

Connie just can't bring herself to look at her phone. She knows she should; she knows Steven has probably been trying to reach her, and she can't avoid him forever, but she can't talk to him yet.

By the time her mother comes home from work, Connie is all showered and dressed and ready to go to her violin lesson. Priyanka is amazed at Connie's efforts. "The house looks great, honey. Thank you."

Connie beams at the compliment. "And I made dinner too! In the slow cooker!"

"Oh? Well, lovely. We'll have it after we get back from your lesson." Priyanka puts away her bag and changes out of her labcoat, then adds, "By the way, I think Steven called the house phone and left a message on our voicemail."

Connie winces. "I guess he must have called while I was out for a jog." She'd seen the red light blinking on the phone, but she avoided it, worrying that it might be for her.

Priyanka frowns at her daughter. "Connie, you can't keep avoiding his calls. Steven wants to talk to you. It's rude to keep ignoring him."

Connie looks at the floor, feeling like she's five years old again, getting scolded for misbehaving. "I know."

"If he calls the house again while I'm here, I'm answering the phone, and you're going to talk to him, you understand me? I'm not going to let this keep disrupting our home."

Connie wants to protest, but one look from her mother tells her to stop before she even starts. "Yes, ma'am."

With a sigh, Priyanka pulls her purse over her shoulder and says, "All right, let's go. Julian's waiting for you."

* * *

After her lesson and dinner, Connie returns to her room. Julian, her teacher, told her in his usual, blunt way that her playing was lackluster. When she pleaded that she'd been sick, he told her that was no excuse.

"You must remember who you play for," he reminded her.

"I know. My audience expects—"

Julian held his hand up and stopped her. "No! No. You play for yourself first. Always yourself! Because if you cannot find beauty in your work, how do you expect anyone else to find it? Were you satisfied with your efforts tonight?"

"No."

"Think about it, Connie. Come back next week ready to make the music you want to hear from yourself."

Lion is waiting for her when she returns. She notices he has something in his mouth, and when she gets closer, she realizes it's her phone. "Lion!" she cries, worried that he might have damaged it. But he deposits it into her hand, and she finds, to her relief, that it is unscathed—with the exception of a bit of saliva.

It's off, she realizes – she turned it off the day before yesterday, and hadn't turned it back on since. And so she activates it, and finds that there are a slew of texts waiting for her:

 _\- Hey Connie. Hope you're well. It's been crazy in Beach City!_

 _\- If you want to call or text me back I can tell you all about it!_

 _\- Okay, so I'll just tell you: Nanefua is our new mayor! Yay!?_

 _\- Are you doing okay? Anything fun going on?_

 _\- Hey, Connie. How are you today?_

 _\- Hope everything's going okay._

 _\- It'd be cool if you told me it was... I guess I miss you._

 _\- I know yesterday I said, 'I guess,' but I mean, I do miss you..._

 _\- Hope you didn't get your phone mixed up with a tennis ball. Ha ha._

"Ugh. Steven. Everything's a big laugh to you," Connie grumbles. There was one last message to read. Sighing, she scrolls to it.

 _\- Please talk to me._

That's the sentence that tugs on her heart, and all she wants is for things to go back to the way they were. But she doesn't know what to say, doesn't know where to start. If she starts to text back, it'll be a jumble of fury and hurt and confusion that won't make any hits reply on the latest message, and types, "I can't talk to you right now."

There. It's simple, and it's honest. She's about to hit "send," when she realizes that if she sends that message, then she will be talking to Steven, and he might say something in reply—and she isn't sure if she's prepared to do that. She cancels the message, feeling like a coward. He's been trying to reach her, he obviously wants to talk—granted, he probably still has no understanding of how badly he's hurt her, but he's still trying. And doesn't she owe it to him, as well as to herself, to try to fix their relationship?

She lies on her bed, staring out the window, watching the sun's light slip away and the stars begin to take the stage in the heavens. And finally, just as her eyes grow so heavy that she can't keep them open anymore, the answer comes to her. Connie has to talk to Steven in person. Tomorrow. This is the only way to begin to make things right.

* * *

Lion's portal lands them near enough to the shore that Connie only has to wade through an inch or two of water to hit dry land. Sure enough, they are at the back of the temple, and she just has to walk around to the front and climb the steps to the house.

Every step she takes up towards the house is one filled with both anticipation and dread. She has no idea what she'll say when she gets there: whether she'll wrap her arms around him and cry into his shoulder, or yell at him—or maybe some combination. Finally she gets to the top…and sees a white piece of paper stuck to the door that reads, "Gone vacationing." She peers into the window and sees that the lights are out, and no one is around.

Connie lets out a light, hysterical, one-note laugh. All that time worrying about what she'd say to him…and he's not even there. Part of her is annoyed that Steven sent all those texts, and then just left to go on vacation. But the other side of her tries to reason that she hasn't answered him, and perhaps he felt there was no reason to stay if he wasn't going to get an answer.

With a sigh, she walks down the stairs, ready to ask Lion if he'll take her home. But when she gets to the beach, the large feline isn't around. "Great," Connie says out loud. Now she'll have to call her parents and beg them to come get her.

"Hey kiddo."

Connie turns around to see her dad, coming around the corner. "Dad!" she calls. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood, enjoying the beach…happened to see you."

"Oh, really? You just happened to be hanging around Steven's house?"

Doug stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles. "Well…maybe I overhead you talking to Lion about coming here too. And maybe I thought…you might need some backup."

Connie looks forlornly up at the giant statue of a woman with the dual faces and the many arms, who guards a deserted beach. "Yeah. Can you take me home, please? There's no one here. I'm not sure where Lion went."

"Sure! But I have to make a stop first for work. Do you mind coming along?"

* * *

In spite of its rather violent-sounding name, Bludgeon Beach is about as tranquil a place as they come. It's not a tourist attraction the way Beach City is in the summer; here, everyone knows everyone else, and Connie and her father clearly stick out. There's one grocery store, one clothing store, one beauty salon, one bank, one post office. Doug brings Connie to the town's only hardware store, where the owner, Mr. Flibnitt, has asked for a consultation on installing a security system. Doug was referred to the squat little man with rosy cheeks by his brother one town over, whose movie theater Doug used to patrol.

"Okay, Mr. Flibnitt, now obviously one of the easiest and most cost-effective methods for providing security is a surveillance system. Install a few cameras in the entrance and exit, and you can already start making your store more secure…"

Connie walks off as her father talks with the shop owner. She's just exited the store when she hears what sounds like a distressed voice nearby.

"Can you please just leave me alone? I just want to get my little sister home!"

"Aw come on, baby, let's have some fun!"

"I told you, I have to go home!"

Connie peers down the street, near the pier, and sees a pretty girl a few years older than her, with deep red hair and wearing a pale peach dress, trying to evade two teenaged boys that are closing in on her. Nearby is a little girl, no more than 6 or 7, also with red hair, who looks frightened to tears.

The boys are pulling on the girl's dress, tugging on her arms. The little girl is crying, "Amanda! Amanda!"

"Come on, Mandy! The kid'll find her way home. Let's go play like we did last summer. You know how we like it." The one boy, probably the leader, grins like a snake. Connie feels her blood boil, and before she realizes it, she's walking towards them.

"Hey! Didn't you hear her? Back off!" Connie yells at them.

The boys stop for a moment, look at her, then scoff. "Whatever. Stupid little kid," the leader says.

"What's the matter?" she taunts them. "You scared? You should be." Connie is shocked to hear these words come out of her mouth, but she can't help it. She can't stand bullies.

The leader nods to the other boy. "Go teach the bitch a lesson."

The boy complies, lunging at her. But that is his first mistake, as he throws all his weight forwards, which allows Connie to grab his arm, duck under him, and throw him off balance, flipping him over like a pancake. The boy hits the wooden deck with a heavy thud. He gets up quickly, ready now to take her on. Again he lunges at her, and Connie kicks his shin, and as he falls forward, she deals a sharp blow to his back, and he flops down again onto his belly.

"All right, screw this crap," the leader says, brandishing a pocket knife. Connie just smirks and pulls her sword from its scabbard she wears on her back. "Knife versus a sword? Get real," she says to him. She hears the gasps of the girls behind her.

Her words don't faze him. He attempts a jab, and Connie cleanly and effortlessly cuts the blade off of the knife, leaving nothing but a metal stump behind. He just stares at his damaged weapon, incredulous.

"What's going on here?"

They all turn to see the town constable and his deputy. Doug is standing next to them.

"These two were harassing these girls," Connie told the officer.

"It's true!" the little girl pipes up, undeterred by her sister's attempts to silence her. "They wouldn't leave us alone! They tried to hurt my sister! This girl," she says, pointing to Connie. "She saved us!" Several other bystanders who'd witnessed the confrontation confirm this.

"Matt, Tyler," the constable said to the boys, "This was your last chance. You're coming with me, and I'm calling your parents."

The boys start to protest, but when the leader (named Matt, apparently) glances at Connie, still wielding her razor-sharp sword, he relents and they allow themselves to be taken away. After the constable is gone and Connie's sheathed her sword, the two girls—as well as several other kids of all ages—crowd around her in excitement.

"Thank you so much!"

"You were amazing!"

"It was about time those two losers learned a lesson."

"I've only seen moves like that in movies! How did you do it?"

Connie tries to answer their questions as much as she can, although the attention is a little overwhelming. She looks over at her father, standing off to the side. He's smiling at her with pride gleaming in his eyes. After a few minutes, the crowd slowly dissipates. Afterwards, the girl who had been targeted—Amanda—slowly approaches her. "Can you teach me to do what you did?" she asks quietly.

"Oh yeah! Me too!" her little sister cries, jumping up and down.

"Kayla," Amanda chides her.

"Uh, yes, of course I can." Connie says this reluctantly, but when she looks into the eyes of the little girl, Kayla, and how she's been able to transform the look in them from fear to awe, she becomes resolute. "I can teach you both, if you want. I'm still learning myself, but I can show you a couple of simple self-defense moves."

"I wanna learn!" Kayla insists to her sister.

"We'll have to talk to Mom, but…" Amanda trails off, then smiles bitterly. "At least, that way you can stand up for yourself. You can say 'no' and mean it."

"It's not always easy to say 'no,'" Doug remarks gently, having walked up to them. He puts his arm around Connie. She smiles at him and holds his hand.

"No. It's not." Amanda crosses her arms around herself. "Well. You're obviously not from around here, are you? Can you come back sometime soon?"

"Well, I'll be here tomorrow afternoon to help Mr. Flibnitt install his cameras…so I can bring Connie too," Doug tells them.

So Connie, Doug, and the girls start making plans, and before they know it, they have three additional participants who were listening nearby, and the Town's pastor steps in too and offers the church's basement for the classes Connie will teach. Before long, they've worked out a schedule, with Connie teaching three classes over the course of the next week—when she's not involved with her own learning, naturally. She's amazed.

* * *

Not long after, Connie and Doug sit on the beach together, watching the waves lazily roll in and out. Bludgeon Beach is smaller, grassier, and dustier than the beach Connie is used to, but it's still nice to feel the warm air and hear the seagulls cry above her.

"I'm proud of you, kiddo," Doug tells her, clasping his knees. "You did a great thing today."

"Thanks, Dad. It's weird, you know? This was kinda just what I needed. After what happened with Steven and the Homeworld gems, I started to feel like—like—I don't know, all my hard work and training had been for nothing. But I feel like I have a purpose again!"

Doug stares at her, concerned. "Connie…why would you feel like you had no purpose?"

"You know why. Steven just turned himself in and left us. I felt so helpless! He broke his promise to me!" Connie tries to keep herself calm, but it's difficult. She digs her fingers deep into the sand, feeling the chill from the seawater that lies deep beneath the layers and trying to let it soothe her.

"Honey…he did it to protect you. To protect everyone. Based on what you told us about the situation, it didn't sound like there was any other way to save everyone. He left you because he didn't want to see anyone hurt."

Connie feels the tears gathering in her eyes, and she wipes them away angrily. "I know. I know. I heard what Steven told me. I know it was a no-win situation. I heard the story Mom told me about her time in the ER and having to make a split-second decision and feeling like she couldn't win. I heard when Stevonnie told me in my dream that Steven never meant to hurt me. I heard it all! I get it. They were going to take all those people—Jamie, Lars, Sadie, Onion—and Steven couldn't bear to let it happen! I get it! But the thing is…" Connie stops mid-sentence as it hits her. She understands, at last. Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

"Connie? What is it?" Doug asks.

"All those people…that's what Steven told me. 'They were going to take all those people; they were going to take you!' he said to me."

"Yes…right…"

"He—he lumped me in with all those other people in the town. That's it!" She smacks her palm with her fist in triumph. " _That's_ it! That's why I'm so mad! _That's_ why I can't talk to him."

Doug takes ahold of his daughter's shoulders. "Connie, you're not making sense."

Connie takes her father's hands as they rest on her shoulders. "I got mad because Steven treated me like everyone else! Like someone he wanted to protect! And I don't want him to protect me! I want him to treat me like a part of himself—like his hand, or his arm! Something he relies on, something he values so much that there's no way he could leave it behind. Something that he'd never part with, unless he absolutely had to!"

"Oh honey. Don't you think that's reckless…?"

"Yes." Connie nods firmly. "Yes, it is. I know what it sounds like. I want him to put me above everything else, even as he's putting me in harm's way. I know I'm not the only one he left; I know that he left the gems and Mr. Universe behind, and they were devastated by it, and they've been a part of Steven's life longer than I have. And maybe I have no right to ask him for that. But I can't help what I feel! I know it sounds…childish…and selfish…and crazy to feel this way about being with him, but I can't just stop feeling it! Because…" She searches for the words. "Because…"

Finally Doug supplies them for her: "Because you're in love with him."

Connie doesn't answer him; she doesn't have to.

There is silence for a while after this. Doug searches for the words, but he's torn between saying what he thinks the father of a 12 year-old girl _should_ say, and saying what is probably the truer (but infinitely more difficult) thing to say. It would be so easy to dismiss his daughter's feelings, to tell her that it's just puppy love she's feeling: at its lightest a crush, and at its darkest, lust. He could tell her that it's just a phase that she'll grow out of.

But he knows it would be completely wrong. Doug can see the passion Connie has for this boy who's disrupted her life and set her world ablaze. He knows it's not just the thrill of the adventures Steven has taken her on; there's devotion and commitment and respect and honor and trust—and yes, love—written all over his daughter's face.

It terrifies him, but it intrigues him too, because Connie has these feelings for Steven after knowing him for such a short time, while it took him years to develop these feelings for Priyanka—even after having known her for most of his life. Their marriage wasn't an "arranged marriage"; rather, it was a "suggested" one. Doug's parents were part of a generation on a cusp of modernity; one foot in the old customs and the other shunning them for new, contemporary ideas. Priyanka's were the same, and so it was "suggested" that they date and spend time together. Their parents gave them just enough space to make them think that getting married was all their idea. Even so, it took quite a while after they got married for Doug to fall in love with Priyanka; he already _loved_ her, having been her playmate as a child, but being _in love_ took time and work.

And yet, his daughter, who'd stumbled into a friendship with a boy who'd been raised so differently from her, had all those feelings growing wild and untamed in her that Doug had had to work for years to cultivate and sow in his own heart. He put his hand over that rhythmically beating organ in his chest now, hoping to find the words to say. And finally, he spoke.

"Honey. If that's how you feel, then that's how you feel. But please—don't think all of your worth lies in one person. Connie, you're so young; there are so many things to see and to do and to be! It's…noble to be devoted to someone, but you have to be devoted to yourself first. Your life belongs to you and no one else. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Connie nods. "I guess I do." She looks over at the little strip of stores, and the municipal parking lot beyond it. "Should we head back?"

Doug chuckles. "Yeah. Sounds good."

* * *

When they get back to street level, Connie finds Lion waiting there for them. A couple of the locals are keeping a distance, but fortunately no one seems to have freaked out too much by his presence. "Lion!" Connie greets the large cat, wrapping her arms around him. "Where did you go? You just dropped me off and took off! Thank goodness my dad followed us…" Connie trails off, and she looks into the gleaming yellow eyes of her friend. "Or maybe…you did it on purpose, so that my dad could bring me here and talk to me?"

Lion's expression doesn't really change, but just for a moment, Connie swears she can see a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Steven's gone on vacation, Lion. So uh…if you want to stay with me for a while, I'd like that. How about I meet you back at home?"

Lion snorts in approval, then turns around and lets out a great roar, creating a portal that closes as soon as he jumps into it.

"Uh, Connie?"

She turns around to see her Doug standing behind her. "You ready, honey?"

Connie looks behind her dad, noticing that they're right in front of the beauty parlor. She sees a photo of a model in the window, rocking a short, layered cut, and it speaks to her, somehow. She thinks about what her dad said—about being devoted to herself. And she makes up her mind right then and there. "There's one thing I want to do first," she tells Doug.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Connie?" Doug asks as they sit together. "You've never gotten your hair cut. Ever!"

"I know, Dad."

"What if you don't like it?"

"It's hair, Dad. It will grow back."

Connie sounds like she's just reassuring her dad, but she's reassuring herself. Her long hair has always been part of her—a defining trait. But she wants to redefine herself now. And this is a simple way to start.

"You're up, hon!" the salon owner, a busty lady with bright red hair streaked with blonde, tells her. Connie exhales and smiles at her dad, then goes to sit in the black vinyl chair.

"So, what are we doing today?" the beautician asks as she throws a plastic drape around her.

"Um…the photo in the window? I'd like my hair cut like that please, ma'am," Connie replies.

"That's quite a cut! That's a lot of hair to lose!" the lady says, rubbing a long lock of Connie's hair between her fingers. "But you have such delicate features; it'll suit you nicely," she adds with a smile. Connie smiles back, relieved by her words.

"I'm Arlene, by the way," the lady says, as she parts Connie's hair into sections and holds them with large clips.

"I'm Connie. And that's my dad." Connie points to Doug, who waves nervously.

"A pleasure. Okay, here we go." Arlene takes a lock of hair, guides it to the blade of her scissors, and makes the first cut.

Connie feels it flutter past her face and drop to the ground, and she exhales. She then realizes she'd been holding her breath. She's done it. No going back now.

Arlene takes another lock, and cuts that away too. Connie now thinks of that song she was listening to a few days ago: _Say that our love ain't water under the bridge._ She doesn't know what's going to happen between her and Steven; maybe everything will be fine and it'll go back to the way things were. Maybe it won't. Maybe she'll laugh in joy and relief; maybe she'll cry in heartbreak. But one thing she does know is that if she's water, then she's not going to stay under that bridge. Water moves, water flows. It runs from streams to rivers and lakes, and finally out to the ocean. Maybe one day she'll be Steven's ocean, but for now, she's going to work on being her own.

Arlene cuts another lock; it caresses her face as it leaves her. Then another. Connie looks up into the mirror, and she starts to see that her hair is taking the shape of the new haircut. Her new style frames her face in a different way. She looks older, more mature. She's starting to see someone new emerging.

Just a few more locks of hair to go. Connie closes her eyes and says to herself, "I will be my own ocean." She feels the weight of her hair leaving her. One last lock. Arlene's scissors slice through it effortlessly. It is done.

"Take a look, hon," Arlene tells her. Connie opens her eyes, and smiles.

 _I am my own ocean._


End file.
